Chloe bolts out of the Jeep, goes to Charlie, sets her hands on his shoulders, tries to help him up. But he’s crying so hard, he doesn’t have the strength to lift himself off the ground. Maybe the story about Hercules and his hair isn’t all bullshit after all.
“You thought I was texting, jerk,” she says. “But I was calling the cops. You’re going to jail for this shit.” She points to the pale bald spot on top of Charlie No-Longer-Man Bun’s head.
“It’ll grow back,” I say, swallowing more than a hint of regret. “It’s not like I scalped him . . . Errr, sort of anyway.”
The cops shoot out of their cruisers, service weapons gripped in hand.
“Drop the weapons!” shouts the first uniformed officer. “Drop the weapons and down on your knees. Now!”
I drop the scissors and the mini-Louisville S
